Η τέχνη της αγάπης :: The Art Of Love
by Hyournihime
Summary: GAxSCxPoT CROSS! Four very different girls are thrust together by fate, to discover the one thing greater than art; magic. But will this writer, ice-dancer, painter, and composer discover the one thing that transcends even magic...love? *long-term hiatus*
1. Η τέχνη του σύμπτωση :: Coincidence

**Last Changed: 08.06.09**

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**Η τέχνη της αγάπης**

**The Art Of Love**

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**By: Hyournihime**

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_Let's let our spirits soar and fly_

_With wings of heaven, made of sky_

_Let's touch the stars of pale star-fyre_

_Of angle's fate and mortal's desire_

_The essence of our hopes and dreams_

_Shall bind in flight and give us wyngs._

_-_

My Masterpiece; The poem I put on every first chapter.

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This chapter is dedicated to sora094. My buddy writer!

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GAxSCxPoT CROSS!  
Four very different girls are thrust together by fate, to discover the one thing greater than art; magic. But will this writer, ice-dancer, painter, and composer discover the one thing that transcends even magic...love?

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Haha. Ahahaha. Hehe. Hoho. Ehehehe. Hawhawhaw. You're killing me! Me own Gakuen Alice, Shugo Chara, or Prince of Tennis? I'll die of laughter before that! Hahaha. haha. *chuckles*

_Notes: _Sorry to say, but...I don't have much to say! lol. Um. hope you enjoy this. I guess. Leave me a review, okay? I live on reviews, and I really mean that!

Oh, and all greek translations are listed as footnots or, as in the titles, beneath them. But in the story itself, they're footnotes. Thanks to Babylon8, wonderful greek-translator-website-thingamagbob. ;) I think that the magic I used in this is a pretty cool idea ^-^ Tell me if you like it, okay?

_Luvs_ to you, _reviews_ to me!

^,~ hime-chan

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**First Fate String: Η τέχνη του σύμπτωση**

"The Art Of Coincidence"

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_**S**_he typed a couple more words, the letters appearing one by one on the computer screen, her fingers flying at an alarming speed. She smiled as she typed, the look in her eyes far away. She was in her own world now.

_"...slowly they danced, one by one, in an eternal waltz, falling from the sky. As they would dance again and again, until the end of time, swept by the gentle winter breeze and made by winter's breath._

_She couldn't help but watch them, letting her eyes trail the paths of the snowflakes, the silver moonlight reflected off of her golden orbs. The snow reminded her of a night not long ago. A night of promises, of the first snow, of hope, of destiny, perhaps. A night of love. And crimson eyes..."_

Her fingers seemed to fall slower and slower on the keyes. She looked at her hands, brunette hair falling around her shoulders. They felt ... powerful. Strong enough to shape the story of many lives. Strong enough to conjure romance and magic. They felt ... so full of potential.

She glanced back at her computer screen, at the seven books that lay beside her. Two tragedies, one comedy, one action novel, one vampire tale, and two of the best romance novels. Her research books; her favorite authors. And every story, in its own way, was better than her own life. Oh, how she wished she could live in her world, a land of magic and happiness, where nothing was boring, and everything was all right. Because it always was, in stories.

But reality just ... caught up sometimes.

Only fourteen, and already alone. Never experienced love. Never been loved. And lived in a world of fantasy and magic. It was no wonder her classmates thought her crazy. Heck, she was even trying to write a novel!

But whenever she typed a chapter, she'd look back on it the next day and it would seem inadequate. She'd re-type it and re-type it, to the point when she couldn't even stand the storyline anymore. Then she'd start afresh.

She looked at the books, and at the thin sheet of paper that lay beside it. An intricate world of twists and swirls fluctuated on the paper, snowflakes dancing down from a moonlit sky. A girl cupped her hands to perfectly shaped lips and a heart-like face. In her fingers, she held a single, black rose.

Beneath her, amongst the swirls, was a name. The letters were engraved in gold, the same gold as the title. The beautiful calligraphy swirled and seemed to disappear into the swirls of snow.

It was her name, on this would-be cover. It would appear on her first book..if there ever was one. It was her hope; her dream. She had always wanted to be an author.

Someday, she swore, this cover would appear on her debut novel.

Someday, this dream would come true.

She turned to the computer and deleted the story. Her mind began to sketch out the details of another. But before that...

Once more, she stroked the letters reverently, fingering the laminated paper, gazing contentedly at the name -- her name...

_Mikan Sakura_

_

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_

_**S**_he let beads of bright red soak into the canvas, let them stray across the snow like bloodred tears. They sank into the white, slowing becoming a part of the wintry landscape.

She could see it all in her mind, so clearly, like an image engraved into her heart. The girl, lying, just so, slightly out of the shadows, her eyes still open, that little bit of light pleading, hoping for love. And the snow, no longer white, but crimson, like blood. A knife. A love. A death.

She sighed, and thought of something else.

White snow. So beautiful, so pure. As if in a trance, she covered up the canvas and stretched out a new one. She dipped her brush in the colors, _so beautiful, so pure._ She set the brush to the paper, as her brunette hair hung about her head in two loose braids.

There. Black all around, but then, into the black, shadowy images strayed. Pouring from her heart, her soul. White mixed with black to create grey. Grey ran from her brush in minute details... Wings, great, feathery, white angel wings stretched out across the page. Then there was a face, portrait-style, eyes gazing into dark blackness. A girl, with long, dark hair and deep, soulful eyes.

There was something in those eyes that called her.

Her hand seemed to have a life of its own. SHe sketched another person in dark grey. She could see it, there, a line, here. Dark hair, a firm jawline. The cheekbones just...so. Half in light, half in shadow. And behind him, jagged wings, rough and untamed. Darkness seeping into the light of the girl. Feathers flying, red, red, red. A smirk across his face. Fingers stroking the cheeks of the angel...

It frightened her somehow, this painting.

Her mind was a jumble when she turned around and looked at it. But she didn't dare stare long. She turned and painted something else. A meadow of flowers, a girl standing in the middle, laughing, dancing.

Only hours later could she turn around again and look at the painting. The colors contrasting, longing, sinister. And somehow, it drew her in, like nothing else.

Oh, how she wished she weren't so alone. How she wished the people in her paintings could come out and be with her, understand her pitiful fifteen-year-old self. How she wished they could bring to her the happiness and feeling in their worlds.

Later, she'd burn this painting. It was awful. A waste of time and resources.

She picked up a brush, with precious gold paint on it. Shimmering slightly, it curled on her her beauteous signature.

There, in the bottom right-hand corner of her painting, a hint of light. Her name.

As she set it into the flames, she watched the edges curl, dissolving into grey ash. Bit by bit, the crimson light ate up the darkness, until there was only a little bit left. A little patch of darkness, with two words written in gold.

In curling, beautiful letters, the name shriveled up in the fire, dissolving into the light as stars dissolve into the daytime...

_Ryuzaki Sakuno._

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_

_**S**_he lifted her leg up, touching her knee to her nose. her toes pointed straight up. "Higher!" her trainer barked, and she did as bid to do. Someday...

But that was no matter. She went through her stretches slowly, until her muscles felt like they were burning and her eyes had watered up. But she held still. And then, in the utter silence, she laced up her skates so tight they hurt. She saw the expanse of pure ice before here, and knew what she had to do.

The music came on.

And all of a sudden, she was whirling, twirling at impossible speeds. She could feel the hardness of the floor beneath her, cold and unfeeling, as her heart had become, So that no matter how hard you struck the surface, in only scratched a little.

A triple-jump. She skated in twirls backwards. The bangles on her arms shook to the beat. Her defiantly pink hair trailed behind her as she speeded to the center. And a leap.

It was a move she'd never seen anyone else do, an incorporation of ballet into ice-dancing. She arched her back back...and back...till she'd touched the toe of her shoe with her fingertips. Her other leg stretched out in front of her, and soon, she was coming back down. She landed awfully, her leg all twisted up. She straightened.

The music stopped.

She went back to the center. She would try again.

And in the music, in the notes, there was like a story. A fairytale, even. Of love. Of hope. Of peace.

She started again, sliding out of a graceful pose, fairly flying around the rink. She could see how it would be. The people, all of them cheering for her. And she'd nod graciously and smile at them. They would be clapping, shouting her name, holding great posters that spelled it out. She would be gracious, like a queen.

She made the jump.

And they woul be cheering for her, shouting her name.

She missed the next jump.

Falling... She propped herself up and said, "again." The music started again, and she slid out of her graceful starting pose into a world where there was only her, the ice, and the music.

She could almost hear them... her name...

_Hinamori Amu!_

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_

_**S**_he let her hand slide across the page, the ink twitching madly between her fingers. The melody sounded in her head. Yes, like that -- it was beautiful that way. Note after note, a blot of ink with a thin line sticking out of it, notations and symbols that would be transformed into something beautiful.

Music is the poetry of the air.

She guided the pen across the paper, filling in the lines with endless notations. _Subito. Crescendo. Decrescendo. Ritardo. Ped._ They seemed to meld into the wazy whiteness, becoming a part of the collage in front of her. Breathlessly, she hummed the tune along with her quick work, jotting and noting the memory down.

Quickly, she turned her computer on. An update popped up, and she hit the 'X' furiously. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!" She muttered under her breath. She clicked the mouse so hard she thought it might break.

_FinaleNote7 _*****

Working quickly, she copied the music into the computer. She watched the program process the information, and saw it start up. A RealTime window appeared in her bottom right screen. She clicked on it. There it was, her work. What it would sound like.

She felt a thrill at the sight of it. Reaching for the phone, she dialed a number. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Nii-san. I want you to listen to this. Tell me if it's good." Trembling slightly, she pressed the play button.

She was instantly enthralled by her own music. Deep and thought-evoking, it was beatiful beyond comprehension. Even on the computer-created file, it had a deeper meaning to it, an underlaying darkness.

She had poured her heart and soul into the music. The notes were like raindrops, falling as heaven's dew from the sky. Each one was unique, and had its own, distinctive sound. And in the middle of the pitter-patter of dewdrops, there was a melody. It was a beautiful melody, long and slow, hopeful and longing, yet filled with sorrow at the same time.

Like a spring day in the middle of winter. A snowfall in the embrace of summer's heat. A miracle where no miracle should happen.

As the final chords died down, she turned to the phone expectantly. "Well, how was it?" She asked, impatiently.

"Good..." She could hear the 'no' in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

"It was just..." there was reluctance in his voice. "You can't publish it yet."

"Why not?!" She could hear the anger in her own voice. She calmed down, "whyever not, nii-san?"

"The tune is too mature," she heard him explain, "and people will think you're a freak. Wait a couple of years. Write some happier songs. If a bad thing comes along in your life, by all means, publish it. All I am saying is..." he paused. "You're too young. People will sabotage your work. It could be copied by an older person."

"And nobody would trust you. Don't start with a song so good. Debut with something lighter, happier. Let this be your career hit." He stopped. There was silence for a while.

"If anybody were to take your work, they could easily convince the public it was theirs. How does a fifteen-year-old write a piece like this? Why would they trust you? They've never even heard of you!"

She couldn't take it anymore, so she hung up.

But that night, as she signed her name on the piece, she heaved a sigh. Her brother was right. Better to let it sit.

So she lifted up the lid of the heavy chest right beside her oakwood desk. She unlocked the lock and opened it. She slid the papers into the darkness, along with the RealTime disc. She watched as the notes faded into the darkness, until there was only a name. Her name.

_Imai Hotaru. _******

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**_I_**t had been little over a year since these happenings. But a lot can change in a year.

_Mikan Sakura_ completed her debut novel in seven months. The young author was given a lot of publicity in the news, and "Η τέχνη του δόλου :: The Art Of Deceit" sold out quickly, over the period of four hours. Twenty million copies, out in five hours.

The book was on first love, true friendship, and elemental magic.

Within a period of half to one month, the book was translated into ten different languages. Every time one was printed, it literally walked off the shelf before it ever existed. Soon, it was in twenty, then twenty-five different languages. It was truly a miracle.

_Ryuzaki Sakuno _painted a series of artwork, entitled: "μαγεία", or 'magic'. A series on the 'elementals' of fire, water, earth, wind, light, and dark, the series consisted of twenty-seven paintings, each focused on the theme of one of four girls playing with magic.

The young painter soon became internationally recognized as one of the best painters of her age. Her paintings were sold for more than ten million dollars each, and many were placed in internationally recognized art museums.

She was recognized as a prodigy, her art a miracle.

_Hinamori Amu_ became a wrold-known ice-dancer. She competed in all of the competitions and gave performances to many high-positioned people. She was especially well known for her unprecedented -- and perfectly executed -- quadriple jump.

There was also the fact that she could skate up to speeds of fourty miles per hour. She could even skate backwards up to speeds of thirty-two miles per hour.

One of the biggest set-apart things, however, was the way she skated pictures and words on the ice. Pictures of flowers, of water, of fire, or windy hurricanes. Words, names, her name... She became a model for many ice-skating and ice-dancing sellers. She was rich, famous, and beautiful. A far cry from what she was a year ago. A miracle.

_Imai Hotaru_ debuted on one of the best-composed, non-classical pieces in the history of, well, non-classical-ness *******. She became something of a household name, her song played even by those who loved rock, not nearly-classical music. The melody of her happy, cheerful debut was often hummed by people.

Soon, her songs were used as backdrops to movies, the melodies loaned -- for a lot of money -- to singers. But the highest point, so far, of her career, was the moment she released her most well-known song, a sad, haunting tune of regrets and promises.

The like had never been heard before, except in the work of the classical and baroque greats. It was a miracle, as they say.

They also say that fate works in mysterious ways.

And that, it does.

The decade-ly Artists of the World Convention was held in Japan that year. The four top guests, of course, were the four great prodigies. It was the largest summit of nearly two decades, swarmed by media and artists, even non-artists pretending to be artists.

It was there that these four first met.

They really had nothing in common, except age, talent, money, fame, and...art. But they had much more in common than that.

And soon, all of their lives would be thrown into relative chaos -- even if it can't be called chaos already. Into danger, fear, hope, happiness, magic, and the supernatural, they would go.

And maybe even love, too.

Yes, these four girl who had always yearned for true love...would they find it?

And how? In this crowded, busy summit?

But as they say, fate works in mysterious ways. This time, it just decided to become Agatha Christie in its mysteries.

And even though you might think you know how it will turn out... Even though you might think you know what is best...

...Only fate knows what is best, in this game of deceit, love, and destiny.

Yes, only fate...

_To Be Continued..._

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**Footnotes:**

*** **Actually, this is a real program. Finale, that is. It's an actual composing-on-the-computer thing. ^-^ Thought you might want to know.

**** **I don't believe anybody else has ever tried making Hotaru a composer. Or Mikan a writer (actually, I think I've seen one of a writer Mikan). Or Amu an ice-skater. (then again, I don't read much Shugo Chara fics.) Or Ryuzaki a painter. (mostly, tennis.) Or a GAxSCxPoT fic. How very original of me...

*******I don't think that's a word. Oh well...

**A/N:**

Yes, I know, I should be focusing on my 'Untouchable', or 'Tears Falling On Shattered Glass' story. I know you like that best. But this idea has been haunting me for ages! So please, please, keep reading.

And while you're at it, leave me a review? Pretty, pretty please?

**REVIEW~**

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V **


	2. Η τέχνη του θαύματα :: Miracles

**Last Changed: 09.06.09**

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**Η τέχνη της αγάπης**

**The Art Of Love**

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**By: Hyournihime**

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_Life is a long, cozy train ride,_

_Carriages with only one person inside_

_Each person's waiting for the trip's end_

_Escape from the leaks, each to mend_

_But after they reach the station's gate_

_They find, for their prize, they needed not wait_

_The joy in destination never was there_

_The turned, and in such great care_

_Found joy, instead, in the long train ride_

_And wished they'd thought to look inside._

_Not toward the future's golden gates_

_But toward the present's giftful wakes._

-

This chapter is dedicated to IRL buddy, Kanamay.

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GAxSCxPoT CROSS!  
Four very different girls are thrust together by fate, to discover the one thing greater than art; magic. But will this writer, ice-dancer, painter, and composer discover the one thing that transcends even magic...love?

* * *

_Disclaimer: _lol, sorry, plan A to take over GA failed. Miserably. Meaning, I couldn't be bothered to get out of bed at 6:00 this morning, so I didn't do it at all. Sorry, GA is still not under my possesion. :( lolXD And as for the other two...Well, I'm soo sorry.  
I have used the characters of: _GA, SC, and PoT.  
_I plan to also use (starting in this chapter) characters of: _Girl Queen_

_Notes: _Like it? Love it? Hate it? Tell me, okay? **I love reviews ^-^**

Oh, by the way, I think all my chapters from now on should be about... 2000-3000 words, as opposed to the normal 4000-5000. Sorry. But if you give me a really good response, I'll try to reach 4000, okay?

_Luvs_ to you, _reviews_ to me!

^,~ hime-chan

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**Second Fate String: Η τέχνη του θαύματα**

"The Art Of Miracles"

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_Previously..._

The decade-ly Artists of the World Convention was held in Japan that year. The four top guests, of course, were the four great prodigies. It was the largest summit of nearly two decades, swarmed by media and artists, even non-artists pretending to be artists.

It was there that these four first met.

They really had nothing in common, except age, talent, money, fame, and...art. But they had much more in common than that.

And soon, all of their lives would be thrown into relative chaos -- even if it can't be called chaos already. Into danger, fear, hope, happiness, magic, and the supernatural, they would go.

And maybe even love, too.

_To Be Continued..._

She dabbed paint on her fingers, swiping them across the page with sure, steady strokes. First a meaningless tangle of colors, it slowly turned into something magnificent, a girl holding her hands out, blowing flower-like lights from her fingers. The audience 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed along at just the right times. Sakuno Ryuuzaki grinned, washing her hands and rushing to the meeting room.

On the small, frozen lake, Hinamori Amu took spotlight, whirling among all the other icedancers like a butterfly among the moths. A triple jump... perfectly executed. She grinned infectuously. Shoulder-length pink hair whipping around, she spun around the ice, her pearled, creme, elegant dress swirling around her as she skated. Quickly, she dressed and hurried to the meeting room.

With a keen eye, Imai Hotaru directed the orchestra as Utau Hoshina, the new up-and-coming singer, sang the lyrics to the song. The piano-based rhythm and acoustic sonority rang through the entire Convention Grounds. The mild rock instrumentation was accompanied by orchestratic effects. It was perfect for the Convention. Hurriedly, Hotaru left right after the song, going to the meeting.

In another area, Mikan Sakura was reading her collection of poems. Two hours afterward, she was scheduled to teach a class on writing. She looked out at the sea of adoring, respectful faces and smiled to herself. "...into the sunlight," she finished, and a wave of applause rose up. Quietly, she slid out to head to the 'meeting' where the four prodigies were to go.

The three-week-long convention was the biggest gathering to have occured all that year.

In the cool air conditioning, Sakuno sat down timidly. She was early. For a minute, she contented herself with drawing doodles on the leather-cased tabletop while watching the door intently.

Amu opened the door to a girl seemingly completely concentrated on staring at the table in front of her. She grinned. Maybe she wasn't the only one nervous, after all. "Hullo?" She called, sort of like a question.

"Oh! Hi!" The braids girl looked up, her hazel eyes penetrating. "Hinamori Amu-san, right?" Amu laughed.

"You're... Ryuuzaki Sakuno-san, right? You can call me Amu."

"Well...then, Amu-san can call me Sakuno."

"...Am I late...?" A new voice cut through. The newcomer's dark violet bob of hair concealed her face. A gloomy black aura seemed to radiate from her slouched form.

"Hi! You must be...Hotaru Imai-san?" Amu ventured tentatively. The dark-haired girl raised her head.

The two girls shrieked. Out in the hall, where Mikan Sakura was hurrying to the meeting room, she suddenly stopped, on account of the peculiar, terrified noises coming from inside the room. She picked up a fire extinguisher and approached the room cautiously. Splaying her fingers across the grainy surface of the door's red wood, she pushed it open.

Hotaru Imai glared at the newcomer as well, for good measure.

Mikan screeched and dropped the fire extinguisher, which landed on her toes. She hoped about on one foot, holding the other with trembling hands. "My toe! Owie!" she cried. Still a childish girl under all that...writer-ness, huh...?

As Amu and Sakuno comforted Mikan, Hotaru took her time inspecting the meeting room. They introduced themselves again.

"I am Imai Hotaru." Hotaru informed them. "I like crabs, seafood, and money."

"Ryuuzaki Sakuno's my name!" Sakuno mumbled shyly. "I'm a painter, and... Well, I like tennis, but I was never really able to play it." She looked around at the inquiring faces, shrinking back. "I did nametags for you," she offered hopefully. From within her bag, she drew out three long nametags, clean white canvas stretched across a hard frame.

"Thanks!" Mikan chirped, "they're beautiful."

"Yeah, they are," Amu agreed.

You could see the money signs in Hotaru's eyes. _What are the chances of there being another Imai Hotaru in this world? No, I'll change it on the computer. But why not take advantage of this girl and ask her to make more..._

Sakuno blushed slightly. "Thanks..."

"Well, I'm Sakura Mikan," Mikan said, after an awkward pause. "I write stories. My friends always say that I'm clumsy and silly, and they also call me childish..." she laughed, "I wish I could do something like nametags, but I doubt I can do more for any of you then put you in my dedications. Ummm..." she laughed again. "I guess, if there's anything I would want to do with my life, I'd like to be a manga artist. I suck at drawing, though, so..."

"Well, maybe we could band together and form a manga," Sakuno offered.

"That sounds nice," Mikan agreed.

Once again, there was an awkward pause.

"You know, my brother says that every awkward pause, an ill baby is born," Hotaru intervened out of the blue. *****

There was a short silence in which everyone smiled, in order to make it seem less ... awkward?

"Ugh. I guess it's my turn?" Without waiting for a pause, the girl barreled on. "I'm Hinamori Amu. I'm an ice dancer, or ice skater. I prefer the term ice dancer, but whatever."

"I..." she faltered. "Uh, the thing I like most is the summertime."

"How ironic," Mikan murmured. "Must put that in a story..."

"And I really love daisy flowers..." she trailed off. "And if I could be anything... I'd much rather be cool, bold, artistic, cute, or... uh, better than I am now. If anything, I would really like to be an ordinary girl, and ice skate without all these people watching me... But you know, it's like a reputation you have to keep up. Once you start, you can't stop, because the world would be there to witness it."

"That's true," Sakuno agreed. "I'm really not the flashy type. I'd rather paint without knowing that even my trash will be scouted out and publicized."

"I like it." Hotaru disagreed bluntly. "More money, more fame... what's the difference?"

"I love that line!" Mikan added. "Once you start, you can't stop, because the world would be there to witness it." She tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "I _have_ to write a story about this sometime..." she muttered to herself.

Then, there was another awkward silence. After all, what are you supposed to do in a strange meeting like this? Talk? Seriously...

"Ready now?"

It was an unfamiliar voice, a strange one. The speaker had the slightest twist of an accent beneath her light tone.

"Of course, there's no such thing as a story without a twist in it," Mikan muttered under her breath. "I really _do_ have to write a story like this sometime. ...and then a voice interrupted their thoughts; a clear, cold voice that seemed to dictate the world for just that moment. They all turned to the noise and who should walk out but...!"

A beautiful girl with soft, light-colored curls and a flowing dress entered the light. Her dress was a blue color, and her eyes an amber hue. She had soft pink lips and pale, pale skin.

"Who are you?" Mikan asked, finally having gotten over her injuries.

"June Narcieq."****** The girl tilted her head and stared at them. "Funny. You humans really _do_ look like us."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Ah," she turned her gaze toward Amu. "Nothing of your concern. Water is water, after all. It only makes sense. Where the light of sun touches, it is day. And where the light of moon is, there is night." At their confused glances, she sighed.

"You're all really stuuupid, aren't you?" This time, her smile seemed a little more childish. "My grandma told me that people who don't smile are stuuupid. And people who don't understand things. And humans. Humans are the most stupid of them all!"

There was a short, awkward silence.

"Look, whatever joke you're playing, it's not funny. How did you get in here, anyway--?!" Amu was cut off by the small chuckle that came from the honey-eyed girl.

"Here," she said, "you might be amazing, but where you are supposed to be, you are _nothing_." She thoughtfully considered them. "I'm hungry," she added randomly. "I suppose you _humans_ here also eat food?"

"What do you mean?!"

"Hinamori Amu. Sakura Mikan. Ryuuzaki Sakuno. Imai Hotaru." She beckoned them to her with a single, slender finger. "Haven't you felt the magic of the world at your fingertips?"

"φωτιά, φωτίζω." ***** **A pulsing light filled the room as fire danced in her fingertips. "I was brought from this world as well. At first, they thought I was a light elemental, but it turns out I am something more...provocative. And each of you must be something as well."

She danced circles around them, without moving from where she stood.

"Of course, you could be nothing..." she considered. "In which case, I guess you can work as my slaves there!"

Ah, the randomness of this random girl saying random things...?

Her feral grin grew in the harsh firelight.

"You were all born with a word on your lips. A word of calling, to the elements. Someday, you might learn to control them without words, but for now..." she beckoned again, "you must come with me."

The four artists didn't move from their seats.

"Honestly," she sighed. "If you don't learn to control your elements, you'll die~!" No movement. "Are you too shocked to move?" She peered at them. "Are you peeing under the table~?" she asked critically.

"What the--!" Sakuno started.

"So you _do_ speak!" she smiled at them. "I was beginning to think that only Amu here could speak~"

She chattered to them about the sun, and light, and butterflies, and all sorts of things. Finally, she stopped.

She pulled a hood over her head. "It's time to go."

This time, the four girls followed. They couldn't explain why. Somehow, they trusted her. In a way.

It was such an abrupt meeting. A moment of chance on a sweet summer day.

But it would change their lives forever.

* * *

The news was all over the world. All four of the artists had disappeared from the meeting room. Nobody had seen them leave, and there was no way they could have gotten out without anybody seeing them. It was a mystery.

But the world is a fickle place. Nobody wants any person (or people) to be in the spotlight for too long. The four artists were soon forgotten, people taking their place. Of course, people still knew them. But like usual, people forget. They may not forgive, but they do forget. It was soon calm, and the pond of the world spread peace again, the disturbance of the dropped rock fading.

So what happens in the rain? The thousands of little things all happening at once? If an earthquake is the landing of a mosquito on the surface, what happens in the rain? What happens when thousands of rocks are scattered on the surface?

What then?

But that is of no consequence now...

Because these four artists that rocked the world were only a single, miniscule pebble.

And although their art remained legacies, they themselves faded to nothing but a description on wikipedia and a name. It had no bigger meaning. They were gone.

But wasn't it strange? Some people asked. Wasn't it strange that all four disappeared at the same time?

But it was just a group of names now.

And a newspaper title.

And a picture.

Who they were.

But they had become so much more.

* * *

"Welcome to the Rohini Institute of Magic." June tilted her head to the side, smiling sweetly. "As you entered, we determined what elements you most likely have. Amu-chan, you have the Wind Element. Hotaru-chan, you have the Element of Shadow. Mikan-chan, you have the Light Element, and Sakuno-chan has the Eart, or Nature Element."

"Now, you will come with me to the beginner's class, where you will remain until you find your first word." She grinned at them again. "ohoho~" They ignored this, having become somewhat used to June's strange outbursts.

Hotaru cleared her throat. "I thought you already knew...um, _magic_?" Her voice was skeptical.

"Oh, I have been taught, but I haven't found _my_ first word yet. It will come in time..." June grinned again. "But as of now, I am still your senior~ Bow to me!"

"Right, well..." They looked up at the grand building. "I guess we'll go in...?"

"Excuse me," a voice broke in. They turned to find a brown-haired girl standing before them. "I'm Haruhi. Do you know where the...Rohini Institute of Magic is?"

"Ah, you must be the other _human_." June stated disapprovingly. "Honestly, why can't they give me another one of _my_ kind to lessen the load?"

"How strangely you say that..."

"..." June squinted at the doors. "Ah. It's time." She looked around at her companions. "All of you are from earth... well, whatever. Enjoy the ride."

Just then, the doors opened, and sunlight swept around them in a warm and enveloping arc. With the golden light shining on their faces, they were carried to the door by great drafts of spring wind.

"This is my favorite part!~" June sang.

"Why is she singing?" Haruhi asked, calm but slightly confused.

Then, they were swept on their feet, their skin tingling with a strange kind of feeling. And all was well, in that slight moment, carried on the spring breeze...

In the light of sun and fragrance of spring, the six people were conducted into the Rohini Institute.

And that is where our story _really_ begins.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

***** Actually, somebody once said this to me. . it was verryy weird...''

**** **June Narcieq is from an awesome cute but confusing manga called 'Girl Queen'. You can find it on mangafox, and it is absolutely AMAZING! It is soooo cute and stuff, so I'm trying to make June somewhat like herself, but it's not easy. she says the most random things...''

***** **Fire, illuminate!

Okay, this was short. I'm sooo sorry. At least it wasn't a cliffy...? Well, don't expect future chapters to be more than 2000-3000 words, okay? It's hard...! T.T

So, I'll see you the next chapter? ^^ thanks for your support, and please review. critisims are especially welcomed! XD

buh-bye!

^,~ hime


	3. Thank you

**Dear Readers:**

I won't be continuing these stories any longer.

If any of you wish to continue them instead, 'adopting' the stories, I don't mind. Just send me a pm and I'll give you full permission. It's been a wonderful year on fanfiction, and I've made so many friends and gotten so much encouragement here. I only speak the truth when I say, you have no idea how much you, all of you, have done for me.

Thank you for reading this, and farewell.

**^,~ Hyournihime**


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